Dog Tags
by yuki kahara
Summary: In the midst of a chaotic war, sometimes it's best to remember the small things. Howard Stark doesn't remember a polished shield. He remembers a dull scrap of metal.


**We ALL know who owns these boys. It'd be an insult to imply it was me. (I ain't nearly that awesome.)**

 **Enjoy,**

 **Kahara-Taisho**

* * *

 **Dog Tags**

Captain America was a hero. He single handedly rescued over 200 men from 30 kilos behind The Line. He decimated a dozen Hydra bases in less than a year. He faced six bullets from a rather furious Agent Carter with barely a flinch. He _knocked_ on Johann Schmidt's front door. He died to protect the entire world. Yes, Captain America was a hero, the kind of man whose name and actions, whose iconic starred shield would be remembered and loved for generations to come.

But that wasn't what Howard Stark remembered most about the man.

What Howard Stark remembered most is a quiet moment, accidentally observed in the midst a crazy hectic war-zone, between two brothers; an unintentionally eavesdropped conversation that would change the way he viewed the world.

* * *

"Are you sure?"

An amused laugh followed the surprised question, and Howard paused on the other side of the tarp, his inventors' curiosity successfully sparked.

"Of course I'm sure, Buck. Reckon I wouldn't've offered it if I wasn't sure."

"...I s'pose..."

"Bucky." An affectionate, if not slightly exasperated sigh. " You've been my best friend my whole life. Hell, we're brothers, in everything but blood. Am I wrong?"

A snort. " 'Course not, Pipsqueak." A shared chuckle. Howard smirked at what could only be an old – and severely outdated – nickname. He leaned softly against a pole, oddly soothed by the lightness of the conversation, a trait so desperately missed during this horrific war.

Something metallic jangled loudly. Howard chanced a tiny peak around the edge of the tarp wall to see Captain Rogers fingering the dog tags dangling around his neck. After a minute struggle, one of the tags was removed.

"You're my brother," Captain Rogers repeated. "The only family I have left." A look of great, but old, sadness crossed both men's faces. Howard glanced down to show his respect in the moment of silence that passed. He glanced back up as Captain Rogers held his palm flat between the two soldiers, the offered tag catching and reflecting a ray of bright afternoon sunlight. Sergeant Barnes' expression melted into one of pure love.

"Ah, Stevie..." he breathed quietly. Captain Rogers jerked his hand closer, silently asking the other soldier to take it. Sergeant Barnes acquiesced, carefully picking up the important piece of medal. He stared at it a moment before closing his eyes and pressing it against his chest. Captain Rogers graced his friend with a goofy, little grin.

"Here," Sergeant Barnes quipped suddenly, yanking a necklace chain out from under his uniform.

"What? Bucky, no. You don't..."

"Shut up."

After a brief fight, Sergeant Barnes removed one of his own tags.

"Catch," was the only warning given before he suavely tossed it to the Captain, who fumbled it for one heart-stopping moment before securing his grip. Sergeant Barnes snorted.

"Graceful."

"Shut up."

Captain Rogers glanced questioningly between the tag and his companion, whereas Sergeant Barnes shrugged self-consciously.

"We're brothers," he reiterated. " 'Til the end of the line. Besides, you'd be so screwed without me."

Both men grinned as they secured the new tags onto their own chains.

"I'm sorry, who just saved whom from certain death?"

Sergeant Barnes threw his arm around Captain Rogers' neck, tugging him down to muzz his blonde hair.

"Hey!"

"As opposed to the hundreds of times I had to come to _your_ rescue back home?"

Captain Rogers finally managed to dislodge his brother, only to pull him in for a firm hug, muttering something Howard couldn't quite catch. Sergeant Barnes eventually pulled back, but kept his arm securely across Captain Rogers' shoulders. They sauntered off like that, keeping up the playful banter until they were long out of hearing range.

* * *

Neither body was ever recovered. Both sets of dog tags were lost with them. No one knew the two men had ever switched one of their tags.

No one, except Howard Stark.

Howard would always remember that moment, until his last breath. He would always remember the affection coloring Captain Rogers' words, the loving adoration on Sergeant Barnes' face. He would always remember the heavy implication of that one, deceitfully simple action; that if one of them were to die, the other might as well be considered dead, too.

He would never be able to bring himself to share this information with anyone, too ashamed to have witnessed such an intimate confession, but he would always remember it.

He would wonder for years to come if he would ever find someone he loved so completely; if he was even capable of such devotion. (He was, as he later realized; as he held his brand new baby son for the first time, as he poured his heart out into a recording camera for that same boy.)

Captain America was an international hero. So were Sergeant James Barnes and the rest of the Famous Howling Commandos.

But as far as Howard Stark was concerned, Stevie and Bucky were bigger ones.


End file.
